


To Begin ; To End

by Snarkyowl



Series: The Main Verse [1]
Category: Markiplier Egos
Genre: Main Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 06:30:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16928223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarkyowl/pseuds/Snarkyowl
Summary: Darkiplier spends a lot of time cooped up in his office, Wilford decides he wants to change that.





	To Begin ; To End

_He feels old._

Logically, he knows he is. He is _so old._ Yet all at once, he feels young. Merely one hundred years of life, yet he feels as though he has lived through a thousand. _Perhaps_ , he muses one afternoon, _I have become the combination of all the years lived by my pieces as well as the years lived by myself._  
His face falls at the thought, at the words “my pieces,” as they ring through his mind. Whenever he allows his mind to wander to them, his _pieces_ as he calls them, he becomes rather melancholy. The two souls trapped within him, broken parts of two wholes that now made _him._ They were not enough to make something complete, not without the third piece that they had removed and abandoned years ago.   
_That was a necessary action_ , he assures himself as his eyes wander to the mirror leaning on the wall near his desk. _Necessary_ is the only thing that comforts him when he looks over the actions of his past. All of the things he has done. They were necessary. 

_Was it all really_ **necessary**? He wonders some nights when the pain in his body becomes too much for him to sleep through. 

“Dark! You’re not brooding again, are you?” Wilford’s voice is a welcomed distraction as Dark glances from the mirror to the door of his office as it clashes open. He quirks a brow, hiding his amusement as Wilford apologetically shuts the door with far less force than he used to open it.  
“I’m not brooding,” Dark states plainly, “I’m _working_. Something you never seem keen to do.”  
“Because it’s a bore! Why waste the time?” Wilford huffs, sitting on Dark’s desk. Dark’s eye twitches as he crumples papers and sends a few pens rolling onto the floor, but the entity does not complain about it.  
“Someone has to do the work around here,” Dark drawls. “And seeing as everyone but myself is incompetent, that leaves me to do it all.”

Wilford pouts at him, arms crossed over his chest like an upset child. Dark is tempted to roll his eyes, but instead leans back in his seat and crosses his own arms over his chest.  
“What do you want, Wilford?”  
“To distract you.” Wilford shrugs, grinning dorkishly before hopping to his feet. “ _And_ , I want to get my best friend out of his stuffy old office.”  
“Is that so?” Dark hums, and Wilford nods his head vehemently.  
“That _is_ so! If said best friend refuses, I’ll just have to drag him!”  
“That _won’t_ be necessary,” Dark assures, raising his hands as though to ask for mercy. Wilford laughs at him for it, but he doesn’t mind that. Wilford’s laugh is nice, especially after being alone for so many days.

“It better not be, Darkie. You haven’t left this place in weeks, you’re getting so pale.” Dark despises the affection in Wilford’s voice, the concern. He hates it because it makes him feel something other than hate, and for the sake of their mission he can’t afford that. He can’t afford to feel things that are warm and fuzzy because if he allows that then he may turn to allowing mercy.

And that is a blunder he **cannot** afford. 

“Where exactly do you plan to take me, Wil?” Dark asks, hands tucking into his pockets as he rises to his feet and makes his way to Wilford’s side. He grimaces only briefly as Wilford slings an arm around his shoulders and pulls him close. 

“We’re going to the fair!”   
“ _Lovely._ ”


End file.
